


Ties that Bind

by PadfootRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, And tons of other stuff, Bottom Harry, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle - Freeform, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle - Freeform, Harry doesn't know what to do, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Sexy times are had, Sexy toys, Smut lots of smut, Tom is really perving on Harry, Top Tom, later on, of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadfootRose/pseuds/PadfootRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a normal day at Hogwarts until a disheveled Tom Riddle bursts through the doors of the Great Hall and collapses soon after. With no memory of how he arrived, and the personality of his 6th year self, Tom is just as lost as the rest of them as they try to find out what's going on. The only thing Tom's sure of is that he wants Harry Potter in his bed, no matter what it takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is also a story from my fanfiction.net account. I recently updated it and plan to continue it with more regularity. Leave any suggestions you might have in the comments. I love feedback.

The night was stormy, dark, and miserable. The trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed against the heavy winds, the trunks creaking against the onslaught. Rain made a pattering noise as it hit the leaves. The smell of wet dirt was thick in the air. All students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were safely tucked inside for dinner. All except two.

Two boys, cloaks pulled over their heads to avoid the rain, had run into the forest. Their laughter was lost amongst the howling winds. Stumbling over their own feet, they headed deep into the woods, snickering loudly. “Oh man, they’re totally going to lose this bet!” said one of the boys who had blonde hair.

“Yeah!” replied the other, who had black hair and a big grin. “Half an hour in the forest is nothing! By tomorrow we’ll be in Honeydukes arms full of candy and those slimy snakes will have to pay for it all!”

The boys voiced their victory by whooping loudly and hitting trees with sticks. The noises echoed in the eerie silence of the forest. It seemed the boys were not afraid of the rumors they had heard about the creatures inhabiting the woods or they weren’t aware of the dangers. They laughed and ran without a care in the world until they reached a clearing in the middle of the woods where a fallen log lay.

The blonde, who was known by the name of Charlie, stopped in his running and motioned for his friend to do the same. “We’re far enough in the woods by now. Let’s just stay here until it’s time to go back.”

His friend, who was known as Ryan, nodded in agreement. He went to take a seat on the fallen log along with Charlie. What both boys hadn’t been expecting was for their butts to go right through the rotted wood. Ryan yelped as something sharp poked him painfully in the arse.

When the two boys had regained themselves after a series of curses and much butt rubbing, they peeked into the now broken log to see what was inside. Shining like it hadn’t been hidden inside a dirty, decayed trunk was a crystal paperweight with a tiny little figure inside. “Ah, man, that’s awesome! It has to be worth a lot of money, just look at it! Should we take it?” Ryan asked, shooting his friend a questioning look.

“Well duh! Of course we should! We found it so it’s ours.” Charlie took the paperweight into his hands and peered inside. In the depths of the crystal, the tiny figure stirred. “Look, I think there’s a little person trapped inside!”

“No way!” his friend gasped, staring in awe as the paperweight began glowing and the tiny person inside pressed themselves against the glass. “Do you think we should free him?”

“I don’t know. What if he was trapped in here for a reason?”

Ryan gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Charlie searched for the right words. “Like what if he’s evil or something and he’s trapped in here because he did something bad.”

“Charlie, that’s crazy. If he was bad he would be in Azkaban.”

“I’m still not so sure…”

The decision was made for them as the crystal chose that moment to heat up in Charlie’s hands, burning them and causing him to drop it. It shattered into millions of glittering pieces the moment it touched the ground.

The two boys scrambled back as fast as they could, fear filling them. Light erupted from the remains and a piercing shriek made them clutch their ears in pain. The light became so intense that they were forced to close their eyes. A final boom shook the ground before everything stopped.

Cautiously, Charlie and Ryan peeked out from between their fingers at the person who had appeared. He was tall, maybe sixteen years of age, with brown hair and dark eyes. He wore Hogwarts robes, but they seemed more old fashioned then what the boys’ had on, more grey instead of black. He also seemed very disoriented and angry.

His unfocused eyes found them and with a growl he stumbled forward in their direction. Both boys screamed and took off into the forest, back the way they came, no longer caring about their bet.

They left behind a very bewildered Tom Riddle, who assumed that the alcohol had gone to his head and he had somehow found his way into the Forbidden Forest. Just wonderful. Looking above the trees, Tom saw Hogwarts in all its glory, shining like a beacon for him to follow. Grumbling under his breath and clutching his stomach, Tom made his way to the castle, hoping to just get back to his dormitory and go to sleep. Hopefully he wouldn’t have a hangover the next day.

Little did he know that a hangover would be the least of his problems. 

OoO

Harry Potter was not having the best of days. It was only three weeks into the term, but already he was buried under mountains of homework that he didn’t have a hope of completing. Since it was 6th year, his teachers had decided to crack down on their students and use every single moment available to give them more and more homework. Apparently it was to prepare them for their N . E . W . Ts, but in Harry’s opinion he thought his professors were just being right gits.

Like today Snape had given him a detention just because he sneezed during one of the man’s lectures. So now after dinner not only did he have to write an essay for Transfiguration, practice a spell for Defense Against the Dark Arts (Lupin had taken over again, though even he was laying the homework on thick), and study for a test in Herbology; he also had to clean cauldrons for Snape. Bloody brilliant.

He stared moodily at the food on his plate, not really feeling up to eating. He was dead tired. Between homework, Quidditch practice, the Occulmency classes he still took with Snape, and the nightmares he kept having regardless of his mind’s defenses, he hardly had anytime to sleep. It was really starting to get to him and his friends were beginning to notice. Hermione suggested that he drop Quidditch, and Harry had considered it, but he just couldn’t do that to his team. He had tried to get out of Snape’s extra lessons by pleading to Dumbledore, insisting they weren’t helping anyway, but the Headmaster was adamant that he continue.

Not even letters from Sirius cheered him up anymore. He had almost lost his godfather last year at the Department of Mysteries, so he had been spending every available second with him. They had hung out at Sirius’ old home for half the summer once he had been rescued from the Dursleys. Harry missed the days when he and Sirius sat in front of the fire, exchanging stories and telling jokes while sipping butter beer. He had sworn to write every week once Harry returned to Hogwarts, and he had kept that promise, but Harry no longer had the energy or the time to reply like he had in the beginning.

Trying to shove away depressing thoughts, Harry watched as Hermione and Ron bickered for the umpteenth time that day. They were constantly at each other’s throats nowadays, and not even Harry’s intervention could stop their fighting. He had given up near the second week, deciding that if they wanted to kill each other, he would not get in their way. He found himself hanging around Hermione more and more as Ron had taken to glaring at her and storming away whenever they happened upon one another. Except at meals, where they were forced to be in the same area because they both wanted to sit next to Harry.

Harry sighed, placing his face in his palm and looking at nothing in particular. What they all needed was one big distraction.

As this thought crossed his mind, the doors to the Great Hall flew open. All heads turned in that direction. A boy stumbled into the room, his hair a mess and his clothes covered in dirt. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Dumbledore, who looked rightly shocked. Three others shared in his surprise. The only three who recognized the boy standing there other than Dumbledore and Professor Snape.

“P-Professor D-Dumb-Dumble! Dumbledore!” said a sixteen year old Tom Riddle, looking as if he was about to vomit. “I don’t feel so good…” As these words left the young Dark Lord’s mouth, he gave one sickening lurch and fell face down on the floor, unmoving.

Almost immediately the whispers started up and students moved forward to get a look at the body. Dumbledore stood up quickly. “All students report to their dormitories immediately! Professors, please make sure they get there.”

Dumbledore motioned for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to come to his side. The headmaster waited none too patiently as all the students were herded out of the room by their teachers, leaving the trio, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape with the unconscious body of Tom Riddle.

When the hall was clear they all moved forward, forming a circle around the young Dark Lord’s unmoving form. They were shocked into silence. Ron prodded the body lightly with his foot, as if to test that it were real and nearly peed himself when Tom let out a grumble.

“What’s the Dark Lord doing here?” Hermione finally questioned, looking around at the others.

Harry got into a crouch, examining the person before him. They looked exactly like the Tom Riddle he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets. Hesitantly, Harry reached out to touch the boy. His skin was warm under his fingertips, not cold like Voldemort’s. And there was no sting of pain in his scar at the contact. “This isn’t Voldemort. If it was my scar would be hurting by now.”

“Potter is right,” said Snape coldly, staring down at the body in disbelief. “The Dark Lord has tried before to regain his old form, but has failed. The old magic used to bring him back is what gave him the appearance he now bears. No potion or spell can change that. Whoever or whatever this is, it is not the Dark Lord.”

“Regardless of who it is, they are hurt.” Dumbledore looked warily at Tom. “Severus, please take Tom to the hospital wing and see what you can learn. We will join you shortly.”

Snape nodded and used his wand to levitate the body up and out of the room. His steps were quick and precise as he floated Tom after him through the doors.

“Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, I must ask that you two also return to your dormitories and report to the hospital wing in the morning.”

“But, Headmaster…!” Hermione protested.

Dumbledore held up his hand, cutting her off. “At the moment we are not sure what we are dealing with. My concern right now is finding out what this Tom knows. I will have Harry stay in the hospital wing so that when Tom awakes he will be there and we can see his reaction. If he does recognize him, then we have a problem. If he doesn’t, then we will go from there. I do not want to overwhelm Mr. Riddle with too much information. We want him to be open with us and tell us how he came to be here.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione hushed him and started dragging him away. The arguing that had momentarily stopped by shock started up again, making Harry roll his eyes. They were going to wake the whole bloody castle with that racket.

He followed Dumbledore through the halls, lost in his thoughts as he headed towards the hospital wing. How could Tom Riddle be here, in this time? Maybe time travel was involved? But then wouldn’t the time stream be affected? Surely something would have changed. And what reason would Tom Riddle have for using Time Travel? Was it polyjuice potion? That would explain why the person seemed so sick. But how would they have hair from Tom Riddle? Voldemort didn’t have any hair now. And could you polyjuice yourself into a younger version of someone? That didn’t make much sense. So what was it?

He knew he would be involved in this somehow, what with his connection with the Dark Lord and all. If this turned out to be something really important, then they would have to possibly keep it from Voldemort’s knowledge. Which would be hard, given the whole of Hogwarts population had seen Tom Riddle’s impromptu entrance.

Ten minutes later found Harry sitting in a comfortable chair next to a sleeping Tom, rather annoyed at the whole predicament. Now he was forced to spend the whole night here, waiting for the teen next to him to wake up and either try to kill him or stare at him in confusion. The only good that had come out of this was getting out of detention with Snape. He was not, however, excused from his homework. So with a sigh he pulled it out and got to work. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

At eleven o’ clock at night, Tom still hadn’t even moved. Madame Pomfrey showed up in her night gown to tell him that she was going to bed, and to contact her if there was any change. She also insisted that he go to bed soon as well. He ignored her.

Somewhere around one in the morning his eyes started to droop. He struggled to stay awake. He still wasn’t done with his essay. But it was a losing battle. A few minutes later he was out cold, his cheek stuck to his parchment paper.

Hopefully everything would work out in the morning.

OoO

Tom cracked open his eyes a few hours later to an amazing sight. Asleep next to him with a piece of parchment on his face, was one of the most beautiful boys he had ever seen in all his sixteen years. Messy raven locks stuck up wildly and hung in his face. He had a long elegant nose and pink, kissable lips all laid out perfectly on heart shaped face. Unfortunately his body was hidden by the unflattering Hogwarts robes.

Sitting up and looking around to make sure no one was watching, Tom moved the robe to the side. Just as he thought, this boy had a long, lean little body, with legs that went on forever. This boy had to be a transfer student of some sort, because there was no way he would have overlooked an angel like this if he had been walking the halls.

_What house is he in?_ Tom wondered, checking the robe to see. _Ah, Gryffindor. So my future boyfriend is in the rival house. Forget Abraxas, this little lion will be mine._

He jumped back quickly as the boy stirred, blinking open emerald green eyes slowly from behind wire rimmed glasses. _He’s even more beautiful than I thought. How is that possible?_ Slowly the boy turned his gaze on him. He sat up at once, the parchment still attached to his face. Tom chuckled at the adorable picture. Noticing what Tom was laughing at, the raven blushed deeply and batted it away. _Simply stunning, not matter what he does._

“Hello, lovely.” Tom purred, leaning towards the boy. The blush deepened. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t recognize me?”

“Sadly no. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” He could see the confusion in the boy’s eyes. Was he not used to being flirted with? _That’s impossible. Just look at him, he’s gorgeous! He probably has boys tripping over their feet to ask him out._ “I could never forget a face as beautiful as yours.”

The boy’s whole face was red by now. It was so cute. He stumbled around for an answer and finally settled on changing the subject. “It’s good to see that you’re awake. Do you remember anything?”

“Are you sure I’m awake, because surely an angel as gorgeous as you could only exist in heaven?” Tom knew he was laying it on thick and was using every cheesy line in the book. But he didn’t care. He would do whatever it took to make his little dove blush so prettily. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head when the boy did not look amused by his pick-up lines anymore. “Well, not really, no. I think the Lions were hosting a party though, so I probably got drunk and that’s how I ended up in the woods. No big deal.”

“What year is it?”

Tom was caught off guard by the question, but answered nonetheless. “1943, of course.” Tom reached out and managed to snag one of his little angel’s delicate hands. “But I don’t want to talk about the date, Dove. Unless it’s one involving you and me. I just want to know your name.”

The boy seemed distracted, mumbling to himself. Tom’s eyes darkened. He did not like being ignored. “So I was right, you are in your 6th year. But you don’t seem to remember anything. Is it time travel then? I have to go get Dumbledore.” The raven stood and turned to leave.

Growling, Tom yanked the boy back into the seat harshly. Using the hand that was free he grabbed the angel’s face and forced eye contact. The boy looked terrified of him, and rightly so. Nobody walked away from Tom Riddle when he was talking. “I asked,” Tom hissed dangerously. “What is your name?”

“H-Harry,” The boy stuttered quickly, looking at Tom a bit fearfully. “Harry Potter.”

“Harry…” Tom tested the name on his tongue. Yes, it was a lovely name for his little dove. “Harry, can you do me a favor?”

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. Smiling, Tom patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit here.”

He didn’t wait for Harry to do what he asked. Instead he yanked on the boy’s arm, making him lose his balance and land on top of him. He moved the boy’s legs so they straddled his hips, pushing the boy closer to him so that their faces were inches apart. One of his hands was placed on Harry’s soft cheek and the other trailed down his back to cup a deliciously firm arse.

The boy fought against him, squirming atop Tom’s lap and struggling, unaware that he was only turning the Slytherin on more. _So feisty. I wonder if he’s like this in bed._ Tom smirked, staring into those fiery green eyes. _Hopefully I’ll find out soon._

“Let go of me!” Harry demanded, placing his small hands on Tom’s chest and trying to push away. Chuckling, Tom snatched up those delicate wrists and forced them above the angry boy’s head. Gently he push Harry back until he was lying back on the bed, his wrists pinned above his head.

The little Gryffindor made a lovely picture, spread out before Tom, panting from the force of his struggles and bucking up against his grasp. Tom leaned forward till his lips were brushing Harry’s bright red ear. He pressed a kiss there and continued trailing tiny butterfly kisses until he reached his dove’s pink lips. All protests spilling from that lovely mouth were silenced by Tom’s thumb, which gently traced the velvet skin. “What year are you in, Dove?”

“It’s none of your bloody business!” The small boy yelled, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “Let go of me!”

Tom chuckled. “Anything to do with you is now my business. I want to know everything about you.” He moved closer until he was staring deep into those extraordinarily green eyes, smirking. “I want to know what you look like when you lose yourself to pleasure. I want to know what you sound like in the throes of passion, memorize every noise that comes out of that adorable little mouth of yours. I want to know how it feels to have you arch underneath me when I’m deep inside you, to hold you close and make you drown in the feeling.” The blush that formed on Harry’s face was red enough to rival a rose, and ten times as beautiful. Tom wasn’t usually so forward with his advances, preferring to lure his prey in with sweet words and false promises, only to strike when they were at their most vulnerable and be gone the next morning. There was something different about this little Dove, however. He made Tom want. He made Tom want more than he had ever wanted before. The mere possibility of getting in between those perfectly slim thighs made him harder than anything. He wanted Harry moaning, aching, and begging for more. Begging for something only Tom could provide.

He was so lost in thoughts of his little Dove without those pesky clothes on, that Tom didn’t notice the fist until it connected with his face. “Shit!” he yelled, releasing his hold on Harry and clutching at his cheek.

Harry used the opportunity to escape, quickly scrambling to get off the bed. He wasn’t fast enough, however. Before he reached his freedom, Harry’s ankle was grabbed and he was yanked back onto the bed, landing on his stomach with his face in the mattress. The boy-who-lived shivered with fear as he felt a hot breath ghost over his ear. Soon after, something clothed and hard pressed against Harry’s pant clad ass, his robes having been pushed out of the way for easier access. Harry may not have had much experience with things of a sexual nature, given that he was typically dealing with one massive problem after another, but he definitely knew what that thing pressing against his butt was, and it caused his breath to quicken. Tom wasn’t going to…rape him, was he?

A chuckle sounded near his ear. It was a dark sound, almost actually like what Harry had heard that night in the graveyard in his fourth year. That was when Harry remembered that on top of him was- though he didn’t exactly look it- the Dark Lord Voldemort, aka, the man who had wanted his head on a stick ever since he was a baby. He’d punched Voldemort in the face. Though in any other situation that thought would make him giggle, now it just made his blood run cold.

“So precious…” the cold voice hissed. “So full of life. You won’t have to worry about me leaving you be, Dove. I will not stop until you are mine.”

The pressure was suddenly removed from his back, but Harry dare not move for fear of doing something wrong and having to face Tom’s wrath. “Turn around.”

Harry was quick to obey, turning swiftly to face dark eyes filled with lust and delight. A pale hand cupped his chin, moving his face uncomfortably closer to Tom’s. “I am sorry for scaring you,” Tom apologized, not sounding very sorry at all. “One as beautiful as you should not be treated in such a way. You deserved to be wooed,” Tom’s lips were inches from his own now. “Will you let me woo you, Harry Potter?”

Any response Harry might have had was cut off by Tom’s firm lips on his, sliding almost desperately against his own. A tongue pushed its way into Harry’s mouth, making sure to leave no surface untouched. Harry bit down on the intruding appendage, but if anything it only seemed to heighten the older teen’s desire. He moaned, slipping his hands into Harry’s hair and tugging softly. Harry could only struggle, eyes wide with terror as his number one enemy plundered his mouth, licking and sucking and doing all sorts of things that both disgusted, and, ashamedly, excited Harry.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted their activities.

Tom pulled away reluctantly, looking up to meet the gaze of one Albus Dumbledore. He sighed, glancing longingly and the kiss swollen lips in front of him before slowly letting Harry go. The boy practically jumped off the bed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get behind the old man.

“You always have to interrupt during the good part, don’t you, Professor Dumbledore?” Tom said. He threw himself back on the bed, stretching his arms above his head and smiling at the old man.

Dumbledore smiled back, the well-known twinkle shining in his eyes. “Tom, how many times must I come across you like this? I must say that the shock must have worn off around the fifth such occurrence.”

Tom laughed, turning his gaze on Harry, who was trying valiantly not to look like his was cowering behind the older wizard. “Probably a lot more often now that we have this lovely little new student running around.” Tom winked at the green eyed boy, who quickly averted his gaze.

“Ah yes,” Dumbledore spared Harry a quick glance, his gaze sweeping up and down to make sure that the boy was unharmed. “I see you’ve had the chance to get acquainted with Mr. Potter, here.”

“Not nearly acquainted enough, unfortunately. I’d most definitely like the chance to get to know him better. Preferably alone and in one of our dorms.”

Dumbledore shook his head, chuckling at Tom’s antics. “You haven’t changed at all, Tom.”

When Tom finally tore his eyes from Harry and looked at his favorite teacher, concern furrowing his brow when he finally got a good look at the man. Dumbledore had always looked rather old. The man had to be nearly sixty. But now . . . the man looked like he had aged another fifty years in the span of one day. His beard was longer, now nearly reaching his belt, whereas before it stopped at the middle of his chest. And his hair was now completely white, as opposed to the smattering of color it had before. His face, though happy, looked world weary, wrinkles etched deep into his skin. Tom sat up immediately, his mind whirling with possible explanations. How could Dumbledore have aged so much in such a sort amount of time? “Professor, what happened to you?”

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore said, looking down as if he had just noticed the change. “Don’t worry, Tom. All will be explained to you shortly. But first,” Dumbledore turned to watch as a plump old woman entered the room and began approaching them. “Madame Pompfrey has insisted that I left her examine you before we proceed any further.”

“Madame Pompfrey . . .?” Tom had never seen the woman before in his life. Since when did they get a new nurse? He’d been in the hospital only three days before to treat minor injuries he’d sustained in a duel. “I don’t understand . . .”

The woman immediately began checking his temperature and his pulse, asking him a variety of questions. Had Tom been a weaker man, he might have lashed out at her in his frustration and confusion. None of this was making any sense. Only minutes before everything had been normal. He’d had a beautiful boy underneath him, and a decent chance at getting laid, and now everything was wrong. Come to think of it, even Harry’s uniform didn’t look right. The style was different than his own, with darker colors. Though he would never show it, Tom was quickly becoming panicked.

He pushed the nurse’s hand away when she next tried to touch him. “Tell me what is going on,” he demanded, shooting at accusatory glare at everyone in the room. There was definitely something they were hiding from him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t learn what it was.

“Oh dearie, you really must let me finish these tests,” the nurse insisted, coming towards him with a needle of some sort. “I’m sure the Headmaster will answer all of your questions when we’re done here.”

“Headmaster Dippet knows about this?”

She gave him the kind of look you give to a small child when they don’t understand something. Tom hated that look. “Not exactly, sweetheart, now please, hold out your arm.” She moved towards him again.

“Come near me again and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” Tom threatened, scowling at her. She shrunk back, looking to Dumbledore for assistance.

“Tom, there is no need for that. After a few tests . . .”

Tom cut him off. “There will be no tests until someone explains to me exactly what has happened. I may have a headache but if you attempt to do anything to me I promise I will destroy you. Now tell me what’s . . .” Tom paused, looking down at the small hand that had taken hold of his. He met the lovely gaze of his Dove, who was looking at him with fright, but determination. Tom melted like butter under those emerald orbs, his anger ebbing like the tide. He lifted the pale hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss on the smooth surface. Harry blushed, but did not flinch or attempt to pull away.

“If you cooperate and do the tests,” he said, voice containing only a hint of shakiness. “Then I will stay here with you and explain what’s going on. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The young dark lord nodded slowly, completely enraptured by the stunning creature in front of him. “I’ll do anything for you, Dove.”

“Good,” Harry sat down in the seat beside the bed, hand still clasped firmly in that of Tom’s. “Now shut it and sit still while Madame Pomfrey does what she has to do.”

Tom did just that, hardly even noticing the needle sinking into his arm. His eyes never left his Dove’s beautiful face. Even though he knew that Harry was technically in on whatever was going on here, he couldn’t be mad. His Dove was too perfect, too lovely, to ever do anything malicious. No, it had to be the others who had somehow roped the angel into their confusing ways. His Dove was innocent, and Tom trusted him completely, even if the little minx had only held his hand to distract him into calming down. Tom resected that cleverness. It only made him want the boy even more, if that were possible.

“Now listen up, because I won’t be repeating myself, alright?”

Tom nodded, listening with rapt attention.

“The year is 1996 and obviously something has gone terribly wrong.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tom sat silently after they told him what information they had, which honestly wasn't much. He was looking down at his lap, Harry's hand still in his grasp, idly stroking the boy's palm with his thumb.

Though it made Harry decidedly uncomfortable, he allowed the action for now, able to see how distressed the other boy was. "Is there anything you can remember?" Harry encouraged gently. "Anything that might help us figure out what's going on?"

"Not really," Tom said softly, looking up at Harry. The Boy Who Lived was caught momentarily off guard by how lost Tom looked. He seemed, dare he say it, scared. It made a weird feeling of pity and shame well up inside Harry. He tried, merely for the moment at least, to disassociate the Tom before him with both the Tom Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets and the Dark Lord Voldemort. This Tom, whatever he was, seemed different in a way. Of course it could all be a clever act put on to fool them all, but Harry was willing to go out on a limb and trust the teen for now. He seemed just as confused as the rest of them as to why he was there. If they wanted to have any hope of figuring out the mess they were in, they would have to work together. "The last thing I recall is snogging Abraxas in the Lion common room during a party. I was really drunk. After that, it's blank until I wake up in the woods. There were these two boys there, and they just sort of looked at me, screamed, and started running. I thought…"

"Two boys?" Dumbledore said, interrupting Tom mid-sentence, something the old man didn't typically do. "Do you remember what they looked like, what they were doing there?"

The change in Tom was immediate. Being interrupted was one of the things he hated most in life. His gaze darkened, shooting Dumbledore a glare that would make the bravest man cower with fear. His hand tightened around Harry's, his whole body stiffening up. Harry saw the warning signs of Tom becoming closed off towards them, and knew he had to act fast if they wished to continue getting information from the boy.

Making a split second decision, Harry moved, taking a seat on the bed next to Tom and leaning against the young Dark Lord, shoulder to shoulder. He intertwined his fingers with Tom's, and looked up at him with an innocent, questioning gaze. "What boys, Tom?"

As quickly as the anger had arrived, it faded from Tom's eyes when he looked at Harry. The younger boy had no idea why he had such an effect on Tom, and part of him was greatly concerned by it, but he brushed that aside for now. If Tom being attracted to him meant that he wouldn't get angry and would tell them what they needed to know, then Harry was going to use that to his full advantage. There was still a chance that the whole situation was a trap of some sort, and if Tom was caught off guard, he might slip up and reveal something to them that would put an end to it.

"Well, Dove, I don't remember much about them. I was a bit disoriented, to be honest. I only know that they were young." Tom brought their entwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. "I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance."

"It's alright," Harry said. He glanced at Dumbledore, who he could see had questions, but the old man kept wisely silent. It was obvious that Tom was more comfortable talking to Harry at the moment, and any move Dumbledore made to get information would be ignored. It was up to Harry to continue. "Do you think that if you saw these boys, you would recognize them?"

"Perhaps," Tom answered.

Harry nodded slightly. "Well, Tom, if you'll pardon me, I have to have a few words with Dumbledore in private for a couple a minutes. You don't mind, do you?"

Tom's grip on Harry's hand tightened reflexively, but other than that he showed no signs of distress. His face had reverted back to a cocky smirk, and whatever emotion he'd shown before was gone. Harry was certain it was a reflexive defense mechanism, as he too had many of those. "Are you going to come back, Dove? You and I have some unfinished business." He winked at Harry.

"I'll be no more than five minutes, I promise."

When he was sure that Tom had been reassured, Harry got off the bed and quickly walked out of the room, not even pausing to check if the headmaster was following him.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Harry hissed, clutching his hair in his hands the second Dumbledore shut the door behind them. "This is not happening. . ." He slid to the floor, leaning against the stone wall behind him and placing his face in his hands.

"Indeed, it would seem we have quite the conundrum on our hands," Dumbledore said. He joined Harry on the floor, even though the younger wizard could practically hear the old man's bones creak. One of the things that Harry admired most about Dumbledore was that the man never tried to make himself seem more important than anyone else. Here he was, one of the most powerful wizards in the world, lowering himself to Harry's level just to give the boy comfort. Dumbledore chuckled, rubbing his legs. "I'm afraid you might have to help me get back to my feet, Harry. My old bones are quite against my current decision."

Harry couldn't help but smile behind his hands. Dumbledore always knew how to make him feel a bit better about a situation. He sighed, looking up at the old man, hoping he held all the answers. "What in the world is going on, Dumbledore?"

Those sparkling blue eyes never once lost their shine. "I'm afraid I am as uninformed as you. This whole situation is quite shocking, but not impossible. There are many explanations as to why Mr. Riddle is now in our presence, each as possible as the last."

"Is it time travel?" Harry asked curiously. It seemed like the most obvious option.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "That is what seems most likely. But until we have more information, it could very well be anything. With our current lack of knowledge, it's unsafe to start making assumptions."

There was silence for a moment. "What we are going to do? You know, about Tom? Even if he's being totally honest and really is from 1943, what are we going to do with him? We can't just pretend everything is normal and send him to classes, and we can't just lock him up somewhere or something. Oh Merlin, what if Voldemort finds out about this? Then we'll have two Dark Lords running around! And what if…"

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, silencing his stream of worry. "Harry, I want you to take a deep breath and calm yourself," Dumbledore said. Harry did, breathing deeply, clenching his fists. "There is no need to panic. Everything will come together with time. Do not concern yourself about that." The old man squeezed his shoulder, giving Harry a gentle smile. It still amazed Harry how calm Dumbledore could be in the face of such an unusual and possibly dangerous situation. "Besides, I myself have been in much stranger circumstances than the ones we are currently experiencing."

Harry had to laugh at that. "You've been in a situation stranger than having a teenage version of the most evil wizard in the world burst through the doors of the great hall, claim he was from the 1940s, and start. . ." Harry paused, an involuntary blush coming to his face. "And start flirting with you?"

"Perhaps not," The headmaster chuckled, shaking his head. "As for Mr. Riddle's apparent infatuation with you, I should have warned you about that possibility."

"Warned me?"

"Yes, you see, I was a teacher when Tom was attending Hogwarts and I was well aware of his . . . reputation."

"Reputation?" If possible, Harry's face turned even redder. Just his luck that the young Dark Lord would turn out to be a well-known pervert.

"Yes, well, during his time at Hogwarts, Tom was well-known not only for being the most intelligent of his peers but also the most . . . promiscuous."

"Ah," Harry said, turning his face away, embarrassed. "Is that why you weren't surprised when you walked in on . . . you know . . . me and Tom?"

"Exactly. Such things were a common occurrence for Tom when he attended Hogwarts. It was a shock, but also, I have to say, a relief to see it after so many years." Dumbledore sighed, and his eyes got that faraway look that meant he was remembering something. "You might not be aware of this, Harry, but Tom was one of my favorite students during my time as a teacher. He was extremely intelligent and ambitious. His future looked incredibly promising, and many thought he would go on to do great things. I was one of them. Even when he started getting more involved in the Dark Arts, I still had hope. . ." The Headmaster paused, and then shook his head, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "But regardless, yes, Tom very avidly perused many boys during his time at school, and it seems you have caught his attention."

"Of course I have," Harry said, running a hand over his face. "It wouldn't be my life if I hadn't."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have seen that you have already started using his attraction for you to our advantage, however."

Harry hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. At this point in his life, after everything he'd been through, finding ways to move things to his advantage was almost second nature. Tom was interested in him, and they needed information. He should see what he could gain from that. "I do seem to be able to calm him down, which is good. It could all be a trick, though. Some plot of Voldemort's to find a way into the castle or something."

"You have your suspicions?"

"Of course," Harry replied. He looked at the old man. "Don't you?"

"As of right now, I am not sure. Though a healthy air of suspicion never hurt anyone." Dumbledore started attempting to get to his feet, and Harry moved quickly to help him. Harry sometimes forgot just how old the Headmaster was, and it worried him. "Now, I must have a word with Tom to see how he wishes to proceed. I am sure he is still quite shocked by this turn of events, and it would help him to be eased into his current situation." He gave Harry a smile. "Do not worry yourself too much, Harry. Everything will be alright."

Harry stopped the older wizard before he could leave. He opened and shut his mouth uselessly, his face growing steadily redder, until he finally forced himself to just say what he wanted to say. "Can you . . . can you do something about Tom . . . you know . . ."

"You wish for me to ask Mr. Riddle to cease flirting with you?"

Harry nodded sheepishly. Dumbledore patted him on the head, shaking his own. "I may be many things, Harry, but a miracle worker is not one of them." He laughed at Harry's crestfallen expression. "But I will have a few words with him, if it would ease your mind."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore gestured with his head behind Harry, and the boy turned to see Ron and Hermione fast approaching, worry in their gaze. "I'm sure Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley have more than a few questions for you. I will try to be swift, and I suggest that you are also. No doubt Tom is anxious for you to return." Dumbledore winked, and then was gone before Harry could make a retort.

Harry sighed and turned to his friends, readying himself for a bombardment of questions he wasn't sure that he could answer.

OoO

Tom fidgeted restlessly on the bed, hands clenched tight in the sheets. He stared down at his lap unblinkingly. Without the distraction of his Dove, there was nothing to take his mind off what he'd recently been told.

Essentially 50 years, gone. At least, that was how it seemed. To him, only mere hours ago, he was partying with the Gryffindors, getting drunk, and thinking about hooking up with Abraxas again. Yet, now as he sat there, it had been years, hell, decades since that night, and he had absolutely no recollection on how all this had come to pass.

All his fellow students would be old now. Abraxas . . . Well, given his lifestyle, he'd probably be dead. Merlin, that thought was terrifying. Unbelievable, fascinating, and definitely intriguing, but terrifying nonetheless.

He'd been ripped from his world and dumped into a new one, where everything was different and confusing. Millions of explanations for his predicament had already run through his mind, with none of them seeming to be the cause. He despised time travel with a passion, and found it much too confusing and risky for his taste. He wouldn't touch time travel for all the money in the world, even during his most desperate times. If time travel was indeed what landed him there, then it was certainly not that of his own doing.

His list of enemies was long. Having an interest in the Dark Arts and strong, sometimes radical political opinions had garnered him plenty of those, even among his fellow Slytherins. Every successful person had enemies, and Tom would have been more insulted if he'd had none at all. All of them were out for his blood, and the entire situation could just a plan of theirs to get rid of him gone awry. At least, that was the explanation he was going with at the moment. For if that were true, then the solution would only be a simple matter of finding him a way back to his own time period, where he could track down whoever had done this to him and end their pitiful lives as quickly as possible.

Yet Tom was never one to jump to conclusions, and would keep his mind open to all possibilities before deciding on a course of action. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore had already discovered the reason, and the whole mess would be cleaned up with no trouble at all.

Though a weaker person might have cracked under the strain of the current predicament and the very idea of losing so many years, Tom was not that kind of individual. He was not immune to a little worry, of course, but he knew panicking, or anything close to that, would get him nowhere. He would keep a clear head and face the challenges as they came. That was what would solve his problem. He'd been in life or death situations before, many of them far more dangerous than the one he was in. Though he had worries, they were few, and he would not dwell on them any further.

While Tom did hope for a speedy resolution to his problem, and a swift return to his own time period where there were plans in the making and a mission in the works, something was bothering him. He knew exactly what that something was, but wished he didn't, for it was something that he should not be so attached to in such a short period of time.

His Dove. Even now, after what must have been perhaps minutes at the most, he missed the boy and craved his presence. It didn't feel right, sitting in the hospital bed without dear Harry by his side. Why he was so attached to the boy, he did not know. It felt like there was a connection between them, hidden, but there, slowly drawing him in. He'd already ruled out love potions and various lust spells. He'd been subject to those, and none felt like this. He had a deep desire to be near his Dove, and their current separation made him itch. The feeling worried him and definitely deserve more perusing.

But, for now at least, the issue was not so pressing that it couldn't be pushed aside for a while to concentrate on more important things. While stuck in this time period, he would not be idle. He had been presented when the perfect opportunity to collect information. Information that might help him succeed in his endeavors back in his own time. A glimpse into the future would provide the perfect opportunity to see if his plans had come to fruition. If they had, the name Voldemort would be known worldwide, and easily found in a newspaper or a book. If he had failed, then he would find out why so that the obstacle could be eliminated. It was all very simple. He would not give up on his goal, no matter what he had to do.

_It won't be all that complicated. Just compile some information discreetly and take it back with you when you return,_  Tom thought.  _It won't take that long, which leaves me plenty of time for leisurely activities. I'm sure little Harry won't mind the extra company…_

With that in mind, Tom allowed himself to relax against the bed, arms crossing behind his head. He deserved a break.  _A vacation_ , his mind supplied. He'd been very stressed lately, as Abraxas Malfoy, idiot that he was, kept reminding him, back in his own time. If he counted the number of times a cup of tea had been thrust in his face or a pillow shoved under his head by the well-meaning, but annoying silver headed boy, he would need ten hands. And, if all the instances where Abraxas had tried to force Tom into letting him give him a 'relaxing' massage were included, he would need twenty.

After what had to have been the hundredth attempt of the Malfoy's, which included much pouting and moaning about how unfair Tom was, the Slytherin had finally relented, and shortly after found himself face down on the bed with Abraxas kneading his back and blabbering on about all sorts of nonsense. Tom found himself drowning out the boy's annoying voice as he continued to prattle on about 'early wrinkles' and 'frown lines.'

"And you've just been so stressed," Abraxas continued in a simpering voice. "With that whole business with the Chamber of Secrets last year, now all this Horcrux nonsense, and trying to find new followers. It's too much, Tommy. You've got me so worried!"

The black haired boy closed his eyes, actually finding himself relaxing at the sound of Abraxas' voice and the feel of the Malfoy's long silver hair tickling his face. Maybe he should have given in sooner. "What you need is a good stress reliever," Abraxas stated with conviction. "You need a good shag, that's all. When's the last time you were with someone anyway? You haven't let me touch you in a while. Too busy with other things, huh, Mr. Prefect? If you can't even get laid properly anymore what kind of lord are you going to make, hmmm?"

Pulling himself back to the present, Tom chuckled at the memory. Abraxas was his closest friend, even if he could be excessively annoying at times, it was to be understood. Abraxas came from both an extremely rich and conservative family, which had, in attempting to conform Abraxas to their line of thinking, forced him in the complete opposite direction. The young teen knew that his family would force him to pick up the reigns once he became of age, so he decided that while at Hogwarts, he would enjoy as much freedom as possible. Thus, he had grown out his hair, dyed it silver, and acted as flamboyant as anyone Tom had ever seen. Abraxas was smart, loyal, stylish, and fiercely defensive of Tom, despite the other boy's protests.

Once, during a lesson where they were learning to cast the Pantronus Charm, Tom had failed rather miserably. Summoning happy thoughts was not something that came naturally to him, and thus performing a pantronus proved a very trying task. Another Slytherin, bigger than Tom, and cocky as anything, had swaggered up to the boy. He laughed at Tom, pointing and jeering at the pitiful little ball of light on the floor that was Tom's pantronus. Before Tom could even open his mouth in defense, Abraxas had walked over, flicked his wand, and promptly shrunk the taunting boy's penis to the size of a breath mint. Nobody had messed with Tom after that, and together, he and Abraxas developed quite the reputation at the school. The boy was a great friend, and an even better shag.

_Speaking of shagging..._ Tom sat up quickly at the sound of the door opening, his tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. He was anxious to see his little Dove again. Maybe they could continue where they left off. The little Gryffindor had made such pretty little sounds before. Tom would pay money to hear them again. He was sure with the right combination of words he could have his Dove under him again, begging so prettily for what only Tom could give him.

It was not, however, Harry who walked through the doors, Tom realized with a sinking heart and a flagging erection. Tom fell back against the bed, more than a little disappointed as Dumbledore approached him from across the room.

"Tom, you and I have some important matters to discuss," the old man said. He stood by the side of Tom's bed, smiling down at the boy. "I'm afraid that it will take time to discover how you have been brought here, and during that time I imagine you would not enjoy hanging around the Hospital Wing endlessly. You have options, of course, which are…"

"I'll be attending classes," Tom said, butting in before Dumbledore could finish his sentence. "That is my decision. If I am stuck here, I might as well learn. However, as the layout of the castle is surely different from fifty years ago, I'll need someone to escort me to all my classes."

"I'm sure one of the prefects will be more than willing to accept that task," Dumbledore said seriously, though his eyes shined with barely concealed mirth.

"Oh, Professor, let's not waste time here. I'm sure you will need a little while to concoct a story to explain my dramatic appearance in the hall and my future attendance at the school, so let's not dance around the subject." Tom didn't mean to be so rude to one of his favorite professors, and he would make it up to the old man later, but right now he was itching to see his little Dove again. "You know exactly who I want my guide to be, and I didn't see a prefect badge on his robes."

"As flattered as I'm sure Mr. Potter would be, I'm afraid it is not possible. The rules are quite clear that any new student will be given a tour of the school and someone to help them figure out their classes and other such matters, but that someone must be a prefect."

Tom huffed in a rather childlike manner, but conceded the point. A little set back like that wasn't going to prevent him from seeing his Dove. "Very well, if that is what I must do. Who is the Slytherin prefect now, since it's obviously no longer me."

"I believe young Mr. Draco Malfoy currently holds that position."

Dumbledore's small smile widened at the light that sparked in Tom's eyes. The teen went from sullen and crestfallen to ecstatic in almost no time at all. It was no secret how close Abraxas Malfoy and Tom Riddle had been during their time at Hogwarts. It had been a bond only now rivaled by that of the Golden Trio of Hogwarts. "A Malfoy, eh?" Tom said, his grin widening. "Abraxas' grandson, I'm assuming. This could be fun."

"However, unfortunately for Mr. Potter and, I suppose, fortunately for you, Mr. Malfoy must be present in the Great Hall when I give my explanation of your rather dramatic entrance and your attendance at this school. Therefore, it must be Mr. Potter who will escort you to the Slytherin dormitories. Mr. Malfoy will be excused from classes for today and will meet you in the dormitories shortly after you arrive. And," Dumbledore added, already seeing the dirty route Tom's mind had gone down when it was mentioned he would be alone with Harry. "I have a request from Mr. Potter regarding your behavior towards him."

"Oh?"

"Harry would appreciate it if you weren't so forward with your advances. He asked me specifically to tell you to cease flirting with him, though I know it would be pointless to do so."

Tom smirked, casting a glance over at the door. "Am I making my little Dove blush?"

"I have to warn you, Tom, that Harry is a very stubborn boy," Dumbledore said. "He is not one for giving in easily, and will not react kindly to your continued perusal of him. I know this will not faze you, however, so I will just ask that you are kind to him. Harry is not used to being liked in a romantic way, and will most undoubtedly react negatively to something he does not understand. Now, about your classes . . ."

Whatever the old man was saying took a back seat to Tom's current thoughts. It might be a stretch, but could he interpret Dumbledore's words to mean that his little Dove was a . . . virgin? The thought sent blood rushing southward. It couldn't possibly be true. Harry was gorgeous. Surely somebody at Hogwarts would have already tried to get a taste of that beautiful body. The idea that his Dove was unclaimed, that Tom's hands had been the first to touch him in such an intimate manner, that he had the chance of being the first to take that sexy arse, made him harder than anything. It was now his mission to make sure that no other was able to get Harry before him. He would be the one to take the little Gryffindor's virginity, of that he had no doubt.

He had the brief vision of him and Harry in bed together, with Harry beneath him. His Dove's naked, pale skin spread out before him, just begging to be marked. Little mewls spilling from those perfect pink lips as Tom teased him with his mouth and his fingers. Those delicious hips arching into his hands, begging for more. And when the boy was ready, Tom would…

His thoughts were cut off as the door opened yet again, now admitting the very person he wanted to see. Unfortunately, much to Tom's disdain, his Dove was not alone. Behind him, glaring at Tom as if he had done them a personal wrong, were a ginger-headed, freckled boy and a bushy haired girl, both of whom appeared to be around Harry's age. Harry himself was blushing a bright red. A blush which grew even stronger when, as they approached the bed, the boy with the freckles took a place directly in front of Harry, as if shielding him from Tom's gaze. Freckles regarded Tom as if he was the scum of the earth, and seemed to be making a valiant effort to blow the Slytherin up with just the power of his mind.

"Did you find out anything more, Professor Dumbledore?" said the Bushy haired girl, eyeing Tom warily.

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore replied. "It seems that Tom is as unaware as to how he got here as we are."

"I don't trust him," interjected Freckles, frowning. "What if this is some sort of plot, hmmm? Some sort of trick to get us to let our guard down."

Tom would have really liked to know what he had done to earn such distrust from all these people. He had met none of them and yet, they all seemed to have an automatic dislike of him.

"Ron!" exclaimed Bushy Hair, looking at him disapprovingly.

"What, Hermione? You can't say you trust him! You heard what Harry was telling us out in the hall." The boy, Ron, pointed an accusing finger at Tom. "He's a liar and a pervert! And after what happened second year I'm not—"

"Mr. Weasely, that is enough," Dumbledore said, cutting off the boy. "I know what Mr. Potter told you might upset you, and the fact that we have so little information is indeed frustrating. However, we must remain calm and not jump to any conclusions. Wild accusations will get us nowhere."

Reluctantly, Ron shut his mouth, glaring and crossing his arms.

Tom decided then that he did not like the ginger boy. He was to hot-headed and quick to anger. Besides, no one called Tom a pervert. Sure, he could be a little forward at times, but that certainly did not grant him the title of pervert. He preferred to use the term 'charming'.

"I am very sorry if I have offended any of you in some way," Tom said, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I am just very confused about this whole situation and want to have it cleared up as much as you do. I think we'll have to work together to achieve that goal, so I am very sorry if I have already caused offensive. Let us start over." He held out his hand to the girl, Hermione, smiling his most charming smile. "I'm Tom Riddle, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Though she still looked suspicious, the girl visibly relaxed at took his hand. He took her hand a brought it to his lips, placing a quick kiss upon it. Though he was not attracted to girls, he could still admire their beauty and treat them like royalty if the occasion called for it. His attentions had the desired affect, as Hermione blushed harshly and pulled her hand away.

That move had, if possible, made the red-headed boy even angrier. When Tom held out his hand to Ron, he was rejected flat out, receiving an even fiercer glare for his troubles. He made a mental note to avoid the boy, if possible. Though, if the two of them were close friends of his Dove, as he suspected, then he would have to try harder to get on their good sides.

"Well, then, there is no use in us delaying this anymore," said Dumbledore, breaking the tense silence that had formed. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, if you could please accompany me to the Great Hall. I need you present when I give my speech explaining Tom being here, and for you to answer any questions your fellow students may have. I will tell you the details of it all on the way. Harry, after we leave you may escort Tom to the Slytherin dormitories."

Tom expected Ron to protest the idea of leaving Harry alone with Tom, but it seemed as if that conversation had already taken place. As Hermione and Professor Dumbledore started heading towards the exit, Ron approached the bed. He leaned in uncomfortably close to Tom, raising a finger and poking the dark-haired boy in the chest. Had his Dove not been in the room, Tom might have snapped it off.

"Listen, I don't care who you fool with this stupid little act of yours," Ron said, jabbing Tom in the chest. "I know who you really are, and if you lay one hand on Harry I'll kill you, understand? I'm not letting anyone else get hurt by…"

"Mr. Weasley, that is enough," Dumbledore scolded, appearing behind Ron and grabbing his shoulder. "We are leaving now." Keeping a hand on Ron's shoulder, Dumbledore steered the ginger out of the room, and Hermione followed soon after, giving one last worried look back at Harry before shutting the door.

Madam Pomfrey approached and gave Tom one last look over. She deemed him perfectly healthy and free to leave, and then she too left the room.

Harry and Tom were left alone once again. Harry stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say, while a lecherous grin slipped back onto Tom's face. He got up off the bed and approached his small Dove. Raising a hand, he cupped Harry's face, smiling. "Aren't you going to take me to the dorms, sweetheart?"

Harry jumped slightly, blushing, and moved his face so it was away from Tom's hand. "Yes, dorms, right. Follow me." He took off in the direction of the door, Tom following close behind him.

Walking through the halls of Hogwarts, Tom pondered over just how attractive his Dove was. He was shorter than Tom, coming up to about his shoulders. Just how Tom liked it. He had a heart shaped face and beautiful pale skin. He was skinny, a little too much so, and had a gorgeously firm ass. His eyes were the brightest green Tom had ever seen, even if they were hidden behind glasses. His hair was soft and as black as midnight. He was beautiful. In fact, the only flaw Tom could see was the scar that marred his Dove's forehead. He wondered how it had gotten there. It wasn't an ordinary scar. That much he could tell. It was obviously caused by some sort of magic. Dark Magic, if he had to guess. But how would Harry have been involved with Dark Magic? His Dove, so nice and innocent, couldn't possibly have been tangled up in such evil things. So where had the mark come from?

He was tempted to ask, but decided against it. The scar was most likely a difficult subject for Harry, and as they were so early on into their blossoming relationship, Tom wanted to take every precaution to make sure he didn't mess it up. That meant pushing the difficult discussion topics much farther down the road to be saved for a time when he and Harry were much closer. Preferably when he and Harry were lying on a bed, post-coitus, and Tom could trace that scar with his finger tips and ask about its secrets.

So for the present, he would have to find something else to ask his Dove about. As much as he loved looking at the boy, walking through the seemingly endless corridors of Hogwarts in stifling silence was not Tom's idea of a good time. He wanted to talk to Harry, get to know him, maybe even make him blush some more. Though first he should probably get some information out of the boy. He needed to know what his future standing was, if his plans had become successful. To be honest he'd rather ask these questions to Harry than anyone else. Again, he couldn't explain it, and he was partially worried by it, but he trusted the boy.

"So, Dove," Tom said, speeding up his pace slightly to walk beside Harry. "Have you ever heard of some one called Lord Voldemort?"

Harry started coughing suddenly, almost choking. Tom moved quickly, wrapping his arms around the boy and trying to soothe him. Something had obviously surprised his Dove, but he had no idea what. "What's wrong, Dove?"

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Harry said, finally regaining control of himself, the coughing ceasing. He quickly moved away from Tom. "I was just a little surprised," He started walking forward again, a bit tenser than before. Tom moved faster to catch up with him. "W-what was that you asked?"

Though he was confused, Tom decided to ignore his Dove's current odd behavior and ask his question again. "Have you ever heard of a man named Lord Voldemort?"

"V-Voldemort? No…No, I can't say that I have."

"Oh," Tom said. He had to admit, he was a bit disappointed. Back in his own time, he had been so sure that his plan was moving along perfectly. It seemed as if all the pieces had been falling into place. He had been slowly but surely building up a following and using his charm to make the connections he needed to have influence in the world. Perhaps fiddling around with Dark Magic hadn't been the best idea, but he had really hoped that research into it would help him with his problem. It had spiraled from there and he began to realize that no one would take you seriously unless you had at least a basic knowledge of the darker side of magic. Tom had always been a quick learner. The Dark Magic, however, was not a big part of his plan. It was only a factor. The bigger picture was much more important, and if his Dove were being honest, then Tom had failed somewhere along the line and his vision for a better Wizarding World had fallen through.

"You seem disappointed." Harry said, looking back at Tom. "Who is this…Voldemort guy to you?"

"Well, he's…" Tom trailed off, pausing in his walking. Harry stopped as well. A smirk slid across Tom's face. He walked up to Harry, looming over the boy and backing him up until his Dove's back hit the wall. "Very sneaky, Dove," he admonished, lifting a hand to stroke the side of Harry's face. Harry swatted it away, but Tom was not so easily deterred. "You might be gorgeous, but I am not privy to giving away so much information about myself to someone I don't know. If you want me to speak, give you the information you want, you're going to have to give me something in return." He slid his hand down Harry's body, stopping to cup Harry's ass. "I admire your deviousness, Dove, but I am not so easily fooled."

Harry tried to push Tom away, but he would not budge. "I wasn't trying to fool you. I was just asking."

Tom's fingers reached out and grabbed Harry's face, holding it in place. "Oh yes you were. Don't worry, Dove. I am not angry. I respect your cleverness. If anything it makes you even more attractive." He leaned in close until his lips were brushing Harry's with every movement. "If you want to know more about me, as you so obviously want to, you're going to have to work for it."

He moved quickly, covering Harry's mouth with his own and proceeding to devour it. He nipped at those deliciously pink lips, turning them a lovely shade of kiss swollen red. He felt his Dove struggling slightly against it, but it wasn't serious enough to make him stop. Had he actually been hurting Harry, he would have ceased his actions in a second. But he knew that Harry was gaining just as much pleasure as he was from their little encounter.

While one hand cradled Harry's head to prevent it from hitting the hard stone wall behind it, the other, which had been on Harry's ass, moved around to his front. He cupped his Dove's slowly forming hard on, and the little Gryffindor gasped, opening his mouth enough for Tom to delve inside. Harry's mouth was warm and tasted heavenly. Tom couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like wrapped around his cock. His tongue twisted around Harry's, trying to coax it into dancing with his own. The boy was, however, eternally stubborn, and refused.

He removed his mouth from Harry's and moved down to that pale expanse of neck. He began nipping and sucking, doing all he could to draw little noises from his Dove. The hand massaging Harry's crotch resumed its previous position on Harry's ass, only this time it went further. Tom pushed his hand down the back of Harry's pants. His fingers explored until he brushed against the little, tight ring of muscle he so desperately wanted to sink into.

He wasn't able to enjoy it for long, however, as he was suddenly shoved away with a force he wasn't aware his little Dove possessed. Harry was panting, face flushed pink and hair mussed. His lips were red and there was a red mark on his neck that Tom had placed there. He looked so very sexy.

"Don't you fucking touch me anymore!" Harry shouted, with probably far more bravado than he actually felt. He backed away slightly as Tom moved forward.

"If that's what you want, Dove, I'll respect your wishes." He moved forward quickly, before Harry could even process what was happening, and snatched one more light kiss from those lovely lips. He had moved away before Harry had the chance to retaliate, and was into front of the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. Harry looked shocked at their location. He must not have realized they had already arrived at their destination. "However, since I did do that to you, and I did say you had to work for information, I will tell you a little something about Voldemort, since you are so curious."

Tom talked to the door in Parseltounge and it swung open instantly. When someone had the ability to speak to snakes they had no need for a password. His Dove looked shocked. Maybe Harry had a kink for Parseltongue. That would be interesting.

"You see, Dove, Voldemort is my past, present, and future. That's all I'm telling you for now." He winked at Harry before turning and walking into his common room. The door shut quietly behind him, blocking the image of his sex disheveled Dove. It was almost a pity, but he know he would see the boy again soon.

He turned, curious to see how the common room had been changed in the fifty years he had lost, and was surprised to spot a boy with a head of familiar blond hair.

He grinned, slowly approaching the boy. This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to comment with your thoughts. I love feedback :) If there is any sort of relationship you want to see, let me know.


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